First Steps
by Creon13
Summary: My first fan fiction. A one-shot of the first night and the reason behind the addiction. Critiques and reviews appreciated.


The world came into view. Not a normal world, though. A world that was made of hard right angles. Every surface had a sharp edge to it. Even the leaves on the trees where cubes. Cubes everywhere. As far as the eye can see.

The sound of the ocean could be heard behind him. He was not sure how he got here or even who he was. The only name that came to mind was... Steve?. An odd name but it seemed to fit his green shirt and blue pants.

This was a very strange world. Yet it felt familiar. Very familiar. Steve? stepped forward reflexively. His body seemed... sharp. Very flat on all sides much like the world he now inhabited.

Steve?'s mind was coming into focus. Basic thought were coming into shape. He needed... something. A feeling of dread started to loom over him as the square sun sailed over his head at an abnormally fast rate. It would be dark soon and Steve? was still completely unarmed. Unarmed from what?

Steve? realized he was now face to face with a very square tree. A surge of passion washed over him, blinding him with intent. In his intense stupor he struck the tree with all his might. He paused when only after the tree itself cracked and repaired itself in an instant.

Overwhelmed with curiosity, Steve? started punching the tree as rapidly as possible. A primal urge, but one that agreed with him completely. Cracks formed in the trunk as his fists took on a mind of their own. The cracks covered the entire surface of the area he was punching until a section of the trunk popped off.

Steve? stood mesmerized at the fact that the tree, despite having lost a significant chunk of its trunk, floated in mid air. He was even more surprised that the tree chunk was in his hands. Oddly enough, this seemed almost natural to him, defying gravity. He was growing more and more aware of his surroundings. There were several trees to harvest at his leisure, however he was constrained by the sun.

The sun sank lower into the horizon and Steve? felt a sudden pang of panic. Bad things came out at night. Horrible things that meant to do him harm. The stuff of nightmares came from the darkness and Steve? felt it imperative to create a buffer between him and the horrors that inhabited the darkness.

Acting far more on instinct, Steve? began punching the ground beneath his feet with the very log he just gathered. Distant memories flooded his mind as the land grew continually darker. Terrible creatures of nature, the very undead, and humanoid souls trapped in horrid twisted forms swirled in his head like a panic cocktail, enticing him to bury himself with the Earth's crust.

Just as the sun hid itself behind the ocean like a scared creature, Steve? sealed himself within his earthen tomb. The darkness engulfed him in a sudden wave of sensory deprivation. Yet even in the total blackness, Steve? felt comforted that no monster could reach him.

Steve? froze. What was that noise? It sounded like some kind of instrument. Almost like a xylophone. But it also sounded hollow and evil, like the instrument was made out of bones. Steve?'s heart quickened at the odd sounds. Was this bit of earth really enough protection?

He also heard what sounded like labored breathing and footsteps just above him. Was it another person? Someone lost in the dark like him? He desperately wanted to find out, but something sinister in the sounds stopped him. He needed something to keep his mind off the nightmarish noises.

There was no room to move, only enough to stand perfectly still. Yet if Steve? focused hard enough, he could see himself, trapped in a gray box. What was stranger was that the wood and dirt he already collected was in a separate area away from him. It didn't make sense but it felt... natural.

Focusing hard, Steve? moved the tree trunks around... somehow. It was like he could control were the wood was moved using a dot or pointer of some kind. He moved the wood to a small area at the top. Top of what? The top of the... area he was trapped in. He placed the wood into the area and instantly it turned into something more!

A small text box was now hovering over the new wood. "Wooden planks" they were called. Oddly enough, Steve? still had the original log with him. It seemed like this little two by two box showed possibility! It showed what he had the power to make! A world of possibility opened up to Steve?. At that moment, he realized that he could create craft the tools necessary to protect himself from the evils of this world.

Working with a fevered pace, Steve? broke all the logs down into an even larger group of wooden planks. He racked his brain trying to see what could be created. He filled the entire space with planks and another, new object appeared in front of him. A crafting table? But that is what he was using right now. Maybe it was an improved version?

Steve? took the new crafting table in his hands and opened his eyes. It was still pitch black with no room to move. How did he create these things without room to even move? He removed the square of dirt immediately to his right and placed the table into the vacant area.

Steve? could dimly see the surface of the table even in the pitch blackness of his earth cocoon. After several moments trying to punch the table, he punched it in a... different way? He was unsure of what he did differently but a new matrix opened up to him, a three by three. The possibilities of what could be made were finally dawning on Steve?.

The noise suddenly escalated and sounded like sticks being struck against each other. It sounded like the creatures were being whipped into a fury. Unholy cries could be heard less than an arms length away. Steve? was terrified that he only had some planks and dirt to defeat the foul denizens amassing to attack him.

As suddenly as the noise started, it stopped. The silence was very odd and empty. Yet the feeling of impending doom that paralyzed him gradually lifted. He had to risk seeing if the sun had risen. He felt very claustrophobic in his tomb. It felt more like his grave than a shelter.

Removing the dirt, Sunlight flooded his dirt coffin, Filling his heart with hope and safety. Scattered across the ground where random bits of feathers and old bones. Whatever creatures that were there a moment ago have obviously been vanquished by the sun's rays.

Steve? saw this world with fresh eyes. As the square sun sailed across the sky he no longer saw a square world filled with obstacles, but the materials to build his destiny. The world was his clay, and he was sculptor. He would rebuild this world, three by three.


End file.
